


When We were Young & Beautiful

by smithya1333



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sciles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithya1333/pseuds/smithya1333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac Lahey moves into a small home in the Long Island village of West Egg, across the bay from his cousin, Scott McCall, and his wife Allison. As Isaac comes to know the glamorous group of friends, he also learns their secrets and the dark corners of wealth, lust and what it means to be young and beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer, 1925

**Author's Note:**

> "No- [He] turned out all right in the end; it was what preyed on [him], what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive and short-winded elations of men."  
> -The Great Gatsby, Chapter I

It was the summer of 1925. I had decided upon a change of scene- a movement from the bleak Northern Illinois winters to a bright and sunny stretch of the Long Island sound, due east of New York. It was this summer that defined all the summers afterward, and one I still remeber to this day, and regret the most. It was the summer of Stilisnki.

***

I had secured a small cottage in the village of West Egg, the- just to say, less fashionable- island that lies opposite the bay from East Egg (both of which are shaped like ovals, so you can imagine where the name came from). My little shack was modest,  costing only $60 a month. The Eggs were due east of New York City, and only the tiny bay separated old money and new, and I was in the new.

My house was surrounded on all sides by luxurious mansions- three of which were empty, with the one directly to the left of me belonging to Stilisnki, although I didn’t know that yet. I watched as people came and went from his door, swam in his pool and used his beach. These exciting people and their exciting lives beckoned to me. They called out in sweet melodic jazz and cries of laughter.  I resolved to work on my love (writing) and would have, if not for the events of that hot mid-year (I did eventually write, and the product is the book you now hold.)

As I look back, the history of the summer really began one Friday afternoon, when my writers block was interrupted by the shrill ring of my telephone.

“Hello?”

“ _Connection from East Egg, are you willing to take it?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Connecting now._ ”

Silence.

“ _Monsieur Lahey?_ ”

“This is him.”

“ _Hello, I call on behalf of my employers, Scott and Allison McCall. They would like to cordially invite you to dinner this evening._ ”

“The McCalls?” I raised my eyebrows, though the french butler on the other line could not see, “I haven’t seen either of them since before the war.”

“ _Yes, Monsieur. They would very much enjoy your presence at their table, five o’clock sharp._ ”

“Tell them I will be there.”

“ _I will Monsieur._ ”

“Thank you.”

A click, then silence.

It seemed I had a dinner party to attend.

***

I arrived at the far point of East Egg late that afternoon, and was surprised to see a horseman galloping toward me.

“Isaac!” It was Allison, seated on a sleek grey horse. Her deep brown hair was tied back in a single braid. She handed her bow and quiver to a waiting attendant and climbed off of her horse, all in one deft, fluid movement. “How are you?” She swept me up in a hug, and I felt her tense muscles, still ready for the hunt.

“I’m well. How’s Scott?”

“He’s inside. What do you say to going out after dinner? To the Alpha Club?”

“I can’t, I have an interview with Walter Chase in the morning.”

“We’ll have you home in time for the interview.” She winked at me as she made her way up the white marble steps, pulling off her creme riding gloves in an elegant manner. She then slammed them on the hall table in a most unceremonious, yet fragile way.

“Ardien! Whiskey in the lounge, now!” She turned quickly on her heels and made her way through a set of tall, white double doors. Inside, the french doors adorning the semicircular room were thrown wide open, and the shimmering, pale curtains whipped about in the heavy breeze. A moment later, the french butler who I had spoken to on the phone entered with a bucket of ice and a bottle of whiskey.

“Why is it so hot?” A voice called from one of the many sofas. I recognized it immediately as Scott’s. He was lounging on a divan, his dark hair damp with sweat and his white suit perfectly pressed

I called to him, “Scott!” He raised his eyes to me and smiled.

“Well look who it is! Isaac Lahey. How did the war treat you?”

“Kind enough.”

“Do they miss me in Chicago?”

“At least a dozen people send their love.”

“How gorgeous...” He trailed off.

As I sat down at the foot of the couch, I noticed a woman seated on the next chair over. Her rich violet dress made her blonde hair even brighter. Scott must have noticed my acknowledgement, for he suddenly stated:

“Isaac Lahey, Ms. Reyes.”

“Pleasure.” She muttered. She seemed highly disinterested in all of us, the room, and life in general. Her eyes barely open, she fanned her face lazily.

“Pleasure to meet you as well.”

“So, if you don’t live here in East Egg, you must be over in West Egg...” She inquired.

“Oh yes, I do-” Allison handed me a drink.

“Do you know anyone over on that side of the bay? Stilinski perhaps?”

Scott’s eyes shot open, and he sat up on the sofa.

“Stilinski? What Stilinski?”

Just then, the french butler entered the room and announced, “Mesdames and Messieurs, dinner is ready.”

“Thank god, I’m starved.” Allison hastily exited the room to the dining table, her drink in hand.

“Of course you are, you’ve been out all morning.” Ms. Reyes remarked.

“Hunting, no less.” Scott added.

“What is there to even hunt here in Long Island?” I inquired.

“I have some things brought in; deer, mongoose, small cougars-”

I laughed, “Cougars? Doesn’t that seem a bit risky?”

Allison stopped at her seat, turned on her heel, and gave me a stern look. “I never miss, and I never let a kill get away.” With that, she sat.

There was a tense silence as we all prepared for the meal.

“This summer just keeps getting hotter.” Scott remarked as the french butler placed a mint julep in front of him. “Thank you Ardien.”

“Well, I like the heat. It calls for lazy Sundays and no more effort than is required.” Ms. Reyes interjected. This shocked me, for it seemed she was much more golden in her countenance than the rest of us.

“What did you say you did, Ms. Reyes?”

“Erica is a Tennis Player.” Scott replied for her.

“Oh! You’re Erica Reyes. I thought I knew your face from somewhere, I must have seen it on the cover of Sporting Life-”

She waved a hand at me and took a sip of her drink, effectively quieting me.

“So, Walter Chase?” Allison asked.

“Yes. Stocks and bonds seem to be doing well.”

“Very well.” Scott interjected.

We all turned to look at him.

“... I just understand that they are doing well...”

Allison raised an eyebrow, and took a bite of her dinner.

Tense quite followed.

“So, how are the Hales?” I asked to break the silence.

“Oh, they’re-” Allison started, but Scott jumped in, “They’re all dead. As far as we know.”

“What happened?”

“A fire.” Erica said.

“A fire? What-”

“Their house. Right on down to the ground.” Erica interrupted, “Some even think it was murder.” She cast a dark glance at Allison, who seemed to have found something interesting in the bottom of her glass, “ I happen to think they’re right.”

There was a stern, uneasy silence.

“Isaac, do you want to hear a family secret?”

“That’s why I came here tonight.”

“It’s about the butler’s nose-”

Inside, the telephone rang. We waited for it to stop, to be answered, but nothing changed.

Allison suddenly stood. “If you’ll excuse me...” She stalked away, her riding boots clicking on the stone floor.

We remaining trio were quiet. We could hear hurried whispers, agitated, then Scott stood and muttered, “Excuse me,” and hurried inside.

“So, Ms. Reyes, you must-” She quieted me.

“I want to hear...”

“Hear what?”

“Don’t you know? I thought everybody knew-"

"I don't-"

"I heard that Allison has a man, a man in New York-”

“What kind of man?”

“A _man_. Allison is having an affair with some man in the city... I thought everyone knew.”

I was shocked into silence.

“A man who, it seems, doesn’t have the decency to not call at dinner time.” Just then, we heard hushed, angry voices in the lounge and we fell silent. Only seconds later, Allison burst onto the porch, followed by Scott.

“I don’t care what you do out on your own, just don’t bring it into this house!” Scott cried, then his face dropped and he threw his gaze to the floor before sitting.

“Well, it sure is hot!” he exclaimed, and chuckled to himself; a tense, dry laugh that seemed like any moment, it could turn to tears.

“This was wonderful.” I said, placing my fork and knife on my almost full plate, “You really must send me the recipe.”

Allison nodded, taking down her drink like it was a single drop in the glass, remaining silent.

“I love seeing you at my table, Isaac. You remind me of a rose, an absolute rose-”

“He’s not even faintly like a rose.” Allison fired at him.

We sat in silence for a long while, then:

“Isaac, come and walk with me.” Scott said, leaving his plate in the same condition as mine. We made our way out through the lounge and into the hall and onto the front veranda.

“Dinner was good.” I said.

Scott nodded. “Yes, I suppose it was...” His gaze remained on the marble floor.

“How have you been. I haven’t seen you in what- eleven years?”

“My, has it been that long?”

I nodded and it was silent again.

“Is this permanent?” I asked, motioning toward the bay.

“I don’t know...” He said. Again, it was silent. “Do you know, Isaac, why I wanted to leave Chicago?”

I responded that I didn’t.“I needed a change.” he said, “A drastic change...” He trailed off.

“Why?”

“Because I’m cynical about everything... I just can’t seem to find...” We stood against the railing in silence, I facing the house, he leaning out toward the ocean. “I just seem to have lost something, and I can’t find it...”

“Lost something?”

“Yes... But I don’t know what...”

We were silent again, and I contemplated what he might have lost. In a moment of dreadful realization, I found the answer; Scott McCall had lost his happiness. He no longer that shine in his eye from when were boys, and he was no longer conveying lovely truths, but veiling horrid lies.

“All the bright young things fade so fast, and they don’t come back...”

***

We made our way into the house some time later, having caught up on completely exhausting conversation. We found Allison sitting in the lounge,  having changed into a deep green dress, with Erica surveying the gardens through the window.

“You two gossiped enough?” Allison asked.

“Only about the important things, like you.” Scott said, kissing her on the cheek. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, and picked up a half full glass of champagne.

Talk turned to the plans for the summer, of beaches and the bay, horse riding and hunting, parties and pageantry-

“I think I’ll turn in for the night.” Erica said unexpectedly. She moved to say goodnight to Scott and Allison. After they hugged, he leaned in close to me. “I plan on sort of, I don’t know, throwing you two together; pushing you into one another at opportune moments here and there.” He winked.

“I didn’t hear any of that.” Erica remarked, and left the room.

“I really must go too.” I said, and stood.

“But the Alpha Club-” Allison started.

“I really need to go-” I interrupted.

“So soon-” Scott pleaded.

“Really. I need to go.” I  started for the door.

“Oh, Isaac, let us walk you out.” Scott lept to his feet making his way to me, as Allison sauntered along too. “Do call, we can have dinner again.”

“Of course.” I said, and turned away into the dark night.

***

When I returned home, my neighbors house was alight- a brilliant display that looked like a thousand boats in a sea of shadow. I observed the colossal mansion, a dark figure in an upstairs window catching my eye. I waved, but the figure moved away. I supposed that must have been my neighbor, Mr. Stilinski, coming down to greet me. But after another moment or two, the night was still silent, so I made my way inside.


	2. Unexpected Afternoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She was the most frightening person I had ever met..."  
> -Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby (2013)

Over the next weekend, I watched in awe as men and women from all over New York arrived at Stilinski’s. Caterers came, pitched tents, and poured drinks. Through the warm evening, a full orchestra produced music that rose on the breeze and drifted to my house. I felt myself once again being drawn to this kaleidoscopic carnival, but knew better of it, for I was now a working bondsman.

My interview with Walter Chase went well. I had secured a position at his company, and in the time between unemployment and employment, I had planned to resume my writing (or lack thereof.) But I was once again interrupted, this time, in person, by Ms. Reyes.

There was a knock on my door the Monday morning after the dinner party at the McCall’s. “Erica?” She stood on the covered porch, her light blue dress blowing in the warm breeze. She removed her hat and pushed in past me, examining her hair in the hall mirror. “I was in the neighborhood, visiting a friend and I figured I would stop by and join you for tea.”

I glanced at my wristwatch. “But it’s hardly time-”

“Nonsense.” She made her way into the small kitchen and started to open cupboards. Searching for tea and cups, I presumed. After some time she found the kettle, the loose leaf, and two cups with saucers.

“I can do that-” I started, attempting to take the metal pot and fill it, but she put her hand up.

“I’m not helpless,” She said, filling the little copper kettle, “I wasn’t always a famed Tennis Player.” She finished and started the water boiling.

“Uh- I... I was never implying that you were.”

She shot me a sly look. “I never implied you did.”

She once again pushed past me to the living room, a small parlor with no more room than the kitchen. I moved to join her, but there was a sudden knock on my door. We both looked at one another. I raised my eyebrows, proceeding into the hall. Upon opening the front portal, I discovered a chauffeur, a young black fellow dressed in a red jacket. I greeted him, but he simply presented me with a tiny yellow envelope, bowed, then left.

I turned the envelope over. It was simply addressed, To Mr. Isaac Lahey, West Egg, The Next House Over. The seal was made of wax, the same red as the servants jacket. In the center was an embellished double S.

“Who was it?” Erica called.

“I have no idea...” I returned to the living room. Sitting, I opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of parchment the same color as the sleeve it had come in. The same seal was printed on one side, of course in red ink, and on the other, a note:

 

_Mr. Lahey-_

_The honour would be completely mine if you would agree to attend my little get together this Saturday evening._

_Sincerely, Mr. Stilinski_

 

“It’s... It’s an invitation...” I stammered.

“From who?”

“Stilinski.” Erica’s eyes widened so fast I thought they would burst right out of her head. She sat up, quick as lightening, and snatched the paper from my hand. She read it then simply stated:

“No one ever gets invited,” She handed it back, “you should count yourself lucky.”

“No one is invited?”

She shook her head. “No. People just wander in, looking for an escape, or a drink, or both.” From the kitchen, the water started to whistle, and I stood to prepare the tea. When I was back in my seat, she told me all about her matches that day, about how she had almost lost one, but by some rare circumstance, her opponent was disqualified.

“She accused me of cheating, but no such thing happened.” She sipped her tea.

We sat in silence, and I wondered why she had to add that small detail, unless it was, of course, true, and she seemed to need to protect her dignity and honesty.

“Won’t you come, to Stilinski’s, on Saturday?” She asked me late into our visit.

“Well of course, if you’ll be attending.”

She smiled slightly, looking at her hands in her lap. “So what is he like? Stilisnki, I mean?”

“I’ve only ever been to one of his parties. I’ve never met him, no one has. Some say he’s Kaiser Wilhelm's nephew, and second cousin to the Devil himself.”

“That seems-”

“But the real shock is, no one knows where he came from. He just appeared, out of the blue.”

“What?”

“Just showed up one day, with his fortune and his fancy parties.”

“But where does the money come from?” I inquired.

She shrugged. “No one knows. That’s what all the speculation and innuendo is for.” She took another sip of tea.

I thought for a minute. I knew that many of the people that owned homes here in West Egg were bootleggers, but I could not pass judgment on Stilinski. You see, in my younger and more vulnerable years, my mother gave me some advice:

“Get to know others before you pass on quick, fiery judgment, as not many people have had the advantages you’ve had.” As a result, I am inclined to reserve all judgments, but even I have a limit.

“I saw him, at least, I think it was him. The other night, after dinner. When i arrived home, there was someone in the upstairs tower window, watching me.”

She seemed shocked. “He was watching you?”

“It seemed so. He pulled away when I acknowledged him...” I trailed off.

“How peculiar. Did you see his face?”

“No, just his shadow.”

“Well then,” she smiled, mischievously, “It looks like we most certainly will be attending that party.”

***

That same week, I had another unexpected, interrupted afternoon. I was on the train, on my way to the city for a private lunch. As if out of thin air, Allison appeared, sat next to me, and laced her arm in mine.

“Hello Isaac.”

“Oh- Hello.”

“Going into town?”

“Yes, I am. I-”

“Good, you can join me for a little soiree.”

“But, I-”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” She raised her eyebrows, rising over her circular sunglasses, “also,” she turned to face the window, “I want you to meet someone.”

My heart shot up into my throat.

“I don’t really... I mean-”

“Isaac.” She turned back toward me. “You’ll come, and you’ll have fun.”

I was silent the rest of the ride toward the Valley of Ashes.

***

Halfway between the City and West Egg, lies the Valley of Ashes; a grotesque place that was the unceremonious dumping ground of the ash from the discarded waste of the shimmering metropolis. It was here, in this dim, crumbling place, that I first met Lydia Martin.

***

“We’re getting off at the next stop.” Allison suddenly demanded. I looked at her with an inquisitive scowl.

“The Valley?” She simply nodded, “But- What’s in the Valley?”

Glancing at me, she replied, “That friend I want you to meet.” Again, I had that uneasy feeling in my stomach. When the conductor announced the location, Allison leapt to her feet, bounded to the exit and was off of the train in a flash. I hastily followed. As much as I wanted to stay and proceed to my plans, I was, as much as I hate to admit it, intrigued to meet Mrs. McCall’s other man.

I trotted after Allison, whose pale green skirt was now black at the hem. “Here we are.” She spun around to examine the look on my face.

 

_Whittemore’s_

_~All Things Fixed and Sold~_

_Open Daily_

A sign above the door read. It was a small general store with a garage attached. The whole building was pink under the film of grime, and we entered.

Inside it was even more decrepit than the outside. The shelves that I assumed were to hold food and supplies were threadbare. It hurt my gut to see such a lack of sustenance. Allison walked to the counter with a sense of confidence, ringing the bell. It occurred to me that she must have done this many times. A man, handsome with high cheekbones, pale blue eyes and short blonde hair came out from a doorway behind the low counter. He was rubbing oil from his hands with a dirty rag.

“Mrs. McCall! He seemed surprised to see Allison.

She smiled, a fake, painted smile. “Hello, Whittemore. How's business?”

“I can’t complain.” There was a loud slamming of a door, feet on stairs. A  woman, her strawberry blonde hair cut short, was with us.

“If it’s business, you should be talking to me.” She smiled. Allison seemed to blossom at this other woman’s presence. “Go get some chairs so people can sit down.” The red headed girl said to Whittemore, who cast her a glance and exited.

“Lydia Whittemore, Isaac Lahey.” Allison introduced us. We shook hands, then Allision smiled again at the woman, a genuine, lovely smile. I made another realization in that moment: Allison didn’t have a man in New York, she had a woman. Whittemore returned with some chairs then, and we sat.

“So when are you going to sell me that car?” Whittemore asked.

“As soon as I can. I have my people working on it right now-”

“Well they work kind of slow, don’t they?” Whittemore almost spat at her. Mrs. Whittemore hit her husband on the shoulder, retorting, “She can always sell it someone else, so don’t push it.”

“All I meant was-”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you go get some drinks for our guests?” Whittemore sighed and stood up, leaving us alone, again, with his wife.

“Listen, I want you to get on the next train to the city-” Allison handed Mrs. Whittemore a folded bill.

“Now?”

“Yes, after we leave, take a few minutes to wait, then get on the train.”

“Can we get the dog? For the apartment?”

Allison leaned in close, hooking a finger under Mrs. Whittemore’s chin. “Anything you want.” She stood suddenly, leaving Mrs. Whittemore in a sort of a daze. Whittemore came back in. He had four bottled pops in his hands.

“We were just leaving.” Allison said, Whittemore’s face and arms dropping.

“Oh. Alright...” He turned around to return the sodas. Allison gripped Mrs. Whittemore’s forearm, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and we were gone.

As we climbed back on the train I noticed the massive billboard at the far end of the Valley. A pair of giant eyes brooded over the dismal scene, framed in a pair of giant, yellow spectacles. _How strange_ , I thought to myself, _that the eyes of God chose to watch over this place... And stranger even that he saw this act of adultery and did... nothing._

I kept thinking about the eyes, even though in under thirty minutes, we were in the city.

***

At the secret apartment that Allison kept for Lydia (after we were better acquainted, she demanded I call her by her first name) I was introduced to a small group of friends, people that they kept about to make things interesting:

There was the couple, Mr. Edmond and Kali Deucalion; the twins, whose names I had not quite caught but knew started with vowels; and the lone wolf, Ennis.

Allison requested that bottles of champagne be brought up. She tipped the messenger boy handsomely for this, and he did not disappoint; we had liquor within the hour.

Within the next hour, we were completely intoxicated.

I have been drunk only ~~one~~ ~~two~~ ~~three~~ I have been drunk many times in my life, but the time I remember most vividly was that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I will constantly be updating, revising, and adding to this work, so make sure you book marek or subscribe to get the new content!


	3. The Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He's so dumb he doesn't know he's alive."  
> \- The Great Gatsby, Chapter 2

The Deucalions were the first to arrive. They both seemed so entertained by the idea of the husband’s cousin being present in this den of sin, for they fawned over me like attentive fans.

“Oh, Edmond, this must be the Cousin, isn’t he adorable?” Kali asked her husband. He extended a hand to my face and felt it. I realized that he was blind, that this was the only way he could decide if I really was. He smiled. I assumed I was adorable.

“Edmond Deucalion,” he said. I shook his hand and he introduced his spouse, “My wife, Kali.”

“A pleasure.” She guided her husband inside the space. I stepped back, letting them in to, where Allison was seated, arms wrapped around Lydia’s waist. We waited for the final guest to arrive, a close friend of Lydia’s, named Ennis Joseph.

When he finally appeared, he entered without knocking. He carried himself like he owned the world, and it was quite striking. His whole body screamed silent aggression, a need to control. I shook his hand and was not surprised by the tight grip.

“Ain’t we havin’ a party?” he asked. Lydia leapt from her lover's arms and started to pour the drinks. I didn’t want to drink, I actually refused, but Ennis sat down next to me, whispering in my ear, “Come on. Don’t embarrass Lydia. She already get’s enough of that from Jackson.”

“Doesn’t she like Whittemore either?”

Lydia turned to me. “He’s a greasy little scum bag.”

I had never heard such horrendous comments from one spouse about another. Even Allison didn’t talk bad about Scott. So, under the impression I was doing the other woman a favor, I drank.

***

Around ten o’clock that night, I realized I was drunk. In an alcohol hazed fever I excused myself to the apartment’s small balcony for air. I was alone in the starry, golden New York night. I wondered about the inhabitants of the riotous city, and if they felt as lost as I did in that moment. If the impending doom of the new, and ever changing world horrified them.

But I already knew my answer.

Back inside the apartment, an argument had started. Through paper thin walls, I heard one woman screaming at another. There was a crash, a door swinging open. I slipped back into the room from my perch outside. Lydia was yelling, waving her arms about like a madman.

“Oh that’s hardly fair, Allison-”

“It’s completely fair, Lydia! You knew the rules since the beginning!”

“Well I don’t care! I’ll say his name if I like- Scott! Scott, Scott Sc-”

Like a flash, Allison reached out an open hand and struck Lydia across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground. The other guest finally raised their voices in protest (something they had done minutes earlier, in all honesty.) Lydia was rushed into the flats tiny bathroom by Ennis and Kali, tears ruining her already smudged mascara.

“You’re a beast! You’re a monster! I want you out-”

In the commotion, I took advantage of the fact that no one seemed to notice me and gathered my things. I was almost out the door when a strong hand gripped my wrist. It was Deucalion.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked. His gaze was set on me, unnerving and distant behind his thick, round framed sunglasses.

I cleared my throat, “Yes. I think it’s time I get home, to Long Island.”

He let go of me and nodded with a smirk. “You know, they aren’t normally like this.” I was silent, so he continued, “I don’t know what set this little row off, but I trust,” He placed a hand firmly on my shoulder, without much difficulty, “that you’ll use the highest discretion, Isaac. Wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s fun, would you?”

“N-no…” I stammered out.

“Good.” He clapped me on the back and turned away, “Be careful getting home, son. The streets are mean this time of night.

***

In the harsh sunlight the next morning, with my head heavy and my mouth dry, I resolved that I would never set foot in that little love nest again as long as I lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. I've just been busy with life and other original works. I hope this little chapter will tie you guys over until I can get back to regularly updating this work. Also be on the look out for other fics I've been working on.


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